


Speak No Evil

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon, Established Relationship, Gun Kink, Kinks, Knife Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-12
Updated: 2007-11-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean and Sam manage to close the Gates of Hell in Lawrence but they paid a heavy price.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Being so close to the Gates of Hell near its awakening was not agony like the being touched by flames. Being called by the sirens of the underworld was a beautiful torture. Sin called to Sam with whispers that were now becoming screams. The only way to silence the maddening desire was Dean's presence. There was one truth Sam had learned as they were so close to battling the demon that made the Yellow-Eyed Demon look like a naughty poltergeist. And he told Dean that truth. 

 

"There are shades of evil," Sam said and turned to face Dean. Tears were running down his cheeks and his eyes were flecked with gold. "You can't save me." 

 

Dean looked away, his stomach rolling with the inevitable, knowing deep down that Sammy was right. His skin felt like it was stretched too thin, the reek of sulfur causing his head to spin. Weapons would be useless. Somehow he'd known that. All the power they would need was now directly in Sam's hands. His younger brother was a weapon, one that they would have to learn to master quickly if they planned to survive... if they survived. "I don't plan on coming back out of this without you. If can't save you, then I'll fall right along side of you." 

 

“No!" Sam yelled and the windows shook with his words. The power was there. It had long since brimmed to the surface, raging and wanting to lash out. Dean was always the center. Sam knew that Dean was the key to focusing his power. To make it stronger and deadly. "I won’t sacrifice you." 

 

"It's not your choice, Sammy. We never had a choice about this." Dean sank down onto the knees, hands reaching inside the bag of herbs and potions they'd brought with them. His hands found the vial of dark black henna infused with several other magikal ingredients. This would start them on their journey, give them some kind of armor that would shield them from losing their minds. "You ever wonder why it was you that got the gifts and not me? Someone or something out there knew you were going to need help, someone to ground you. I think Dad knew that, too. That's why he always pushed me just a little bit harder while we were growing up. There's a plan here, for both of us. Bigger than even the yellow eyed demon’s plans. You can't stop what's been started anymore than I can turn away and let you do this yourself." 

 

“God's will..." Sam shook his head in denial. "There *is* no redemption. You don't believe in..." 

 

"It's not a matter of what I believe in anymore. It never was. Things just are or they aren't." Dean pulled out an ink quill, twirling it between thumb and forefinger. "What I do believe in is us... that's all I care about at this point." 

 

"We’re each other's failure and salvation..." Sam mumbled to himself as he watched Dean start to draw protective sigils into his skin. The quill was sharp, biting into Dean's skin, mixing blood with the henna. He wanted to lick the blood away and bit his bottom lip. "I don't think I should be handling any holy water..." 

 

"It wouldn't matter so much, really. You're not possessed and you're not a demon, you just have abilities. I checked all of that out in some of Bobby's books." Dean lifted the end of the quill, dipping it back into the potion. "Holy water won't do us that much good once we cross the Gates anyway." Dean looked up from the sigil he was working on. "The one on my back, when you get ready to put it on me, I need you to mix it with some of your blood. It's a bonding symbol as much as a protective one. That way we can't get separated." Dean watched as Sammy licked his lips again and felt himself shudder slightly at the sight of it. "After we both have the markings, there's one more thing left to do before we get started on this." 

 

Sam looked down at the crumpled paper that Dean was copying the sigils from. He didn't have to ask which one was the bonding symbol even though he had never seen them before. One of them just looked right. Dean already had his shirt off and Sam reached out to trace his finger along Dean's right shoulder. He kept his fingers light as he traced the soft skin, even as he pulled out his favourite curved knife from the back of his jeans. "You want to fuck after I make you bleed?" He didn't wait for an answer as he used the sharp edge of his knife to cut the sigil into Dean's skin. 

 

Ever since the battle with the yellow-eyed demon Sam had been a little closer to darkness and his abilities had strengthened. Dean groaned, letting the sting of the knife cutting through his flesh wash over and then off of him. The herbs in the ink were already doing their job. It was dark magick, the ingredients they were using. Things their father had taught them to stay away from. 

 

The price was too high a thing to play around with so Dean had gone searching, finding everything they'd need. So many religions, so many different shades of magick to be placed in so small a bag of essentials. It didn't matter. This would be the last chance they had at taking out the demon. It would stop once and for all tonight. He reached a hand behind himself, grabbing tight to Sam's free hand. 

 

"Don't spill any more than you need to. We have to exchange it once yours is done." 

 

Sam squeezed Dean's for a moment before shaking it free. He reached for the vial of dark liquid and drizzled it into the open wound. "This will be forever, Dean." He set the vial down and rubbed the henna in, mixing it with the blood. "We'll wear the same mark. And you didn't answer my question..." 

 

Dean hissed through the burn of his cuts, his nerve endings feeling like they were on fire. "Yeah, well… we're playing with dark shit here, Sammy. I swear to God if you laugh at me when I tell you this you'll have far worse things to think about then the Gates of Hell. So, you'd better promise me right now you're not gonna laugh." 

 

"I won't laugh," Sam promised and nuzzled along Dean's shoulder blade. He tongue snuck out to taste the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck. "Winchester's honor." 

 

Dean snorted. "That hoodoo priestess at our last pit stop for supplies, she told me that the only thing that balances out this kind of dark magik is pure love." Dean waited for the sound of Sam's laughter or some emo-bullshit to come spouting out of his mouth. He was relieved when it didn't. "So, fucking would be out of the question here. Like you said, these marks on our backs are forever, or as long as we have left. Their big-time sigils, Sammy-boy, and they have to be done completely right by the rituals. Which means pure love, which means no rutting around like dogs in heat. You understand me?" 

 

"So, no doggy-style?" Sam snorted and when Dean glared at him, he added, "What? I promised on my Winchester honor. You know we don't have any honor. Love... yes. Honor, integrity... hope... not so much." 

 

"You're such a bitch, ya know that?" Dean's eyes went wide. "Jeezus, Sam! I'm not a fucking turkey, dude! Don't slice me to ribbons back there!" He sighed and wiped a hand across his brow, drawing the sweat away from his eyes. "And don't you dare start giving up hope or else this is nothing more than some kind of suicide run. I don't plan on dying and neither are you. Think positive." Dean mentally slapped himself. That was usually Sam's gig, being the hopeful one and giving the good ol' boy speech. 

 

“I don't need hope when I have you..." Sam told Dean and smirked when his brother made a gagging sound. "Hope means you want things to be a certain way. I know we’ll win. 

 

"Are you finished yet? I'm suddenly feeling the need to use the knife on you." 

 

Sam pulled away and considered his blood covered hand. He licked his fingers and scrunched his face up at the taste. Dean’s blood tasted tainted, different than normal. "I prefer the taste of your blood alone." 

 

Dean's face screwed up. "Thanks ever so much for sharing that. Now turn around so I can do you." 

 

"I though you said no fucking!" 

 

"Fate and Destiny are laughing their asses off right now about this and I wish they'd shut the fuck up." Dean turns and makes a twirling motion with his finger. "Turn. Around. Your turn to get sliced and diced, Sasquatch." 

 

Sam turned around and peeled off his two shirts, then braced his hands against the wall. "Dad always said blood was thicker than water." 

 

"Dad is not a topic I want to be discussing right now. Not when I'm about to carve into your back when I swore I'd never hurt you. He'd have a conniption fit right now if he knew what we were doing...and what we're gonna *be* doing soon after this." To prove his point, Dean leaned in and let his erection rub against his little brother. "Talk about something else." Dean glanced down at the paper on the floor then pressed the tip of the knife into Sam's skin. 

 

"How about the first memory of you?" Sam offered and didn't wince when the knife bit into his flesh. "You'd carry me around everywhere you went. Dad was always telling you to put me down." 

 

Dean's laugh was soft. "Yeah well, saved us a lot of headaches with me carrying you. You tried to scream the world down around you whenever you didn't get what you wanted. It was just easier that way." Dean reached one hand down and around his back, bringing his own blood stained fingers around to touch at the cuts for a moment, mixing their blood. 

 

Even here, at the near end of the world, Dean could ground him like this. Put the human ties that bound him in this grand struggle. "I love you." 

 

Dean finished off the last line of the sigil, letting the knife fall onto the floor before tipping the last of the henna concoction onto it, smearing it in with the calloused pads of his fingers. Once finished, he laid his head between Sam's shoulder blades, dropping an open mouthed kiss on the salty slick flesh there. "Show me how much." 

 

“I'm not sure I can do the pure part..." Sam groaned and leaned back into Dean's touch. "I can feel it, Dean." Sam licked his lips and moaned softly. "They want... both of us." 

 

Dean couldn't help it. He bit into the juncture of shoulder and neck lightly, letting his hands move around to splay across Sam's stomach. "They're gonna get us...just not the way they want." Dean's fingers strayed down into the tops of Sam's jeans, tickling down under the waistband of his boxers. "Stay with me, Sammy. Right here with me, right now. We'll deal with them soon enough." Dean's chest was pressed flush up against Sam's back, still hot and sticky from the cutting and the henna potion. 

 

"Original sin. We were born with it... for this... for each other." 

 

Dean kissed along the column of Sam's neck, lips biting into an earlobe. He wasn't sure where the words came from. "Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood." 

 

"Bone of my bone. In life and in death." 

 

 

********* 

 

They had started the spell in the privacy of the abandoned warehouse on the west side of Lawrence. But the real battle was carried out just outside of Stull in the cemetery near Clinton Lake. The Gates of Hell. Dean had left the Impala near the warehouse for safekeeping and as they drove closer to the cemetery, Sam could sense the unrest of the demons and decaying souls clawing at the Gates. 

 

Now in the aftermath, Sam could feel nothing. He had felt the lives of the humans caught in the crossfire of the battle flicker out: a family in a nearby house, a few motorists snuffed out and their cars crumpled on the highway. No birds or even insects survived. Trees were uprooted and grave stones crumbled to dust. The closer to the cemetery you got… the greater the oblivion. 

 

The only life Sam could feel was Dean for miles around. A crater ripped through the ground marking the heart of the closed Gates of Hell. Lying in the dead center was two crumpled bodies. 

 

It started with nothing more than a deep breath in, one long intake of air, clear of sulfur and noxious fumes and the stench of death followed by one even longer exhale. That breath out was shaky, a silent sob at the sudden knowledge of how much pain his body was in. A twitch of a foot followed by his forehead pressing deeper into warm cloth beneath him, Sam forced himself to lift his head. The world around him seemed to spin, brown and blue to blue and brown, as he rolled off of Dean’s prone form beneath him. He stared up into a blue sky, a morning sky still soft with clouds. It was so quiet. 

 

He turned his head just enough to look over at his brother. Dean was still out, one long cut arcing from his hairline, down through his eyebrow before starting again at his cheek and ending beneath pouty lips. Those lips were cracked and bleeding slightly but they were parted and drawing in air. Sam’s hands reached out to touch, every nerve screaming in pain but still needing to make the contact with Dean to assure himself that what he was seeing wasn’t another trick brought on by the demon. 

 

Dean's body shifted the moment that Sam's hands touched him. When Sam’s hand made contact with Dean’s skin it was electric. The aftershock from the black magick and battle sizzled between them. They could feel it. Dean’s soul was his own again. The bargain made with the cross roads demon had been broken. 

 

Dean’s eyes shot open and he gasped in a painful breath of air. “Sammy…” 

 

Sam moved closer, his hand reaching down to grab at Dean’s. He opened his mouth to speak but found the only sound he could muster was a soothing ‘ssshhhh’. As much as it scared Sam, he forced the panic down. The last thing he needed was Dean freaking out on him not having a voice. It was probably just from all the fumes and the screaming. Sam shuddered, remembering the sounds both he and his brother had made at the hands of the Demon. 

 

“We’re alive,” Dean groaned in surprise and twinned his fingers with Sam’s. “Dude, you owe me twenty bucks.” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned in, letting his lips brush gently across his brother’s. It was a fleeting one, but when Sam pulled back Dean was grinning at him. Unconsciously, Sam licked at his lips, tasting Dean’s blood heavy on his tongue. That’s when it first happened. He was watching Dean, knew Dean didn’t say a single word to him. Yet, he knew Dean’s voice and damn if he didn’t hear his brother say ‘sexy freak’ clear as day. His eyes widened and he watched as Dean’s own face mirrored some sort of shock. Dean was pulling away from him slightly, watching him with a wary expression. 

 

Dean looked into Sam’s eyes that were now flecked with yellow, making them look eerily beautiful to Dean. Defeating hell’s minions hadn’t been a victory. Victory implied there was a winner and Dean knew they was winners in this. “What price did we have to pay, Sammy?”


	2. Chapter 1

Sam had kept some of the details from Dean. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Dean hadn’t wanted to hear all the details, just wanted it done and over with. The price wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. One or both of them could’ve died. As much as it pained Sam to know that Dean would carry that scar forever across his face, at least his brother was there with him… alive and well. And his own price, his voice, gone. He’d always prided himself on being able to argue and debate. This was more important. This was all that mattered. He reached out his hand again, this time touching the scar and letting the blood smear across his fingers in deep crimson. It needed to be stitched. They needed to get out of here. He let Dean see the blood and then touched his own throat, hoping that Dean would understand. 

 

// Please, Dean. Please get this… // Sam thought to himself. 

 

Dean licked his lip, smearing the blood and making his wound sting. He looked down and back up, smiling at his brother. There was only one thing that mattered, truly mattered. "You're alive." 

 

// We’re alive. // Sammy mentally reprimanded his bother, heavy emphasis on the ‘we’. He watched as Dean shook his head as if trying to clear away cobwebs before large green eyes stared back at him in total shock. 

 

Reality started to slam home. There was freaky and then there was Winchester freaky. He remembered the gold flecks in Sam’s eyes and the desolation around him. He should be dead, but something had protected them. Something more than the symbols marking their bodies, because that had only been the ignition to Sammy’s internal fire. Now Sam was in his head. 

 

// Don’t even think of saying Christo to me. // The words in Dean’s head had every bit of Sam’s normal verbal whine. 

 

"Hey! I didn't sign up for this portion of the program!" Dean struggled to sit up, hissing at the pain in his ribs. "I draw the line at certain things and you being in my head is one of them. Private stuff up there, man." 

 

Sam cocked his head to the side. // It's either this or silence. // 

 

“Awww, fuck. This is so definitely not cool, Sammy. Just don’t go poking around in there or anything, okay? Seriously.” Dean carefully stood up, surveying the land around them. “What the hell happened? Last thing I remember that damn thing had just given me a slice across the face…” Dean absently trailed his hand along the scar. “Damn it! That son of a bitch!” 

 

Sam reached out and considered the wound. It was deep enough that it would need stitches in places and spells to make sure the spiritual poison wouldn't set in. // I don't think there are anymore boundaries between us. // Sam warned. // I can't promise anything. If it makes you feel any better... I ripped the head off the thing that did this to you. It was just before... the end. // 

 

Dean shuddered at the thought of Sammy being anywhere near the things they’d seen down there. Bits and pieces of memory swam to the surface of his mind and he found his stomach clenching up in knots. The screams, the smells, the taunts… it felt as if his insides were being torn apart. Standing wasn’t agreeing with him and he turned away from Sam, bending over at the waist as the acrid taste of bile filled his mouth. Before he could even figure out what was happening, he was retching. His ribs protested and his head throbbed and the whole time in his head he could hear Sammy screaming, telling the demons to leave him alone, let him go. Dean went to his knees as everything came back in vivid detail. 

 

There had been a moment when Sammy had stopped screaming. He had stopped begging for Dean's life. In that moment, things had changed. Sam had fulfilled everything he was meant to be. Whatever Sam was then had no name. He was neither angel nor demon. His creation and being came from that hazy place between good and evil. He was the key to the Gates of Hell and while he could have opened it for the army swarming in hell, he could also slam it shut. Like a pendulum, Sam swung between the extremes, but his natural resting place was in the middle. But like a magnet, Dean had felt the pull of Sam to him. 

 

Sam... his Sammy... had been ruthless, merciless. The two lesser demons were the first to go, dissolving like ice in the sun as he'd turn his golden gaze on them. He'd made his way easily through the others until he'd reached Dean, standing right in front of him and the one who'd started this whole messed up existence of theirs in the first place. He couldn't *not* remember the way Sammy's eyes had glowed like a sun going nuclear, the way his face had contorted in rage as he pulled Dean to him before shoving him roughly to the ground. He didn't see the actual beheading but he remembered the sound of rendered flesh and the stink of sulfuric blood and hellrot. Then Sam had fallen on top of him and everything had gone white, not black. 

 

Dean remembered searing heat that should have melted the skin right from his bones, burned his body to ash as quick as flashpoint. It had touched him for only an instant before it was gone. His next memory was of waking to find Sam next to him in this crater, this spot where Hell had use to be. 

 

// Do you believe in God's will now, Dean? // Sam asked and stood up, holding his hand out to Dean. // Because I do. I believe you were sent to sway me. I was so close to opening the Gates... It felt like rapture... but then I felt you. // 

 

Dean reached out and took the hand offered to him, letting himself be hauled to his feet. The nausea was still there, but it was muted now. He was already forcing it to the back of his mind. Dean had more important things to think about right now then what had happened. “Guess it really doesn’t matter what I think, does it? We’re both alive if a little banged up. We need to get out of here before people start showing up to find out what’s happened. Not to mention we both stink. And you’re gonna need to stitch me up.” 

 

Sam grabbed Dean's arm, putting it on his shoulder to take some of Dean's weight. // See, the thing about me being in your head is that I know when you're trying to avoid talking about it. I know you're worried that I've gone too far... that I'm too powerful... // 

 

Dean grunted a bit as they made their way up the slight incline of ground. "Yeah, well take that as a sign and just shut up about it then." He felt Sam's fingers tighten a fraction on him and he scowled. "Look, Sam... I know you're gonna want to pick this all apart but just for once, can't it wait until we're at least somewhere with a shower? I'll let you bounce around in my head all you want after that. Hell, I'll even tell you my deepest darkest secrets. Just, give me some time to process things myself before I go spilling my guts like a little girl, alright?" 

 

Dean heard Sam's chuckle reverberate in his head. // Who's the big emo now? And you don't have to tell me your deepest darkest secrets... I'll figure them out if I don't already know them. And I sort of... crushed the truck we drove here in... // 

 

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, holding back a grunt of pain as Sam tried to keep going forward. "Well, uncrush it then cuz I sure as hell ain't walking all the way back in town." Dean sighed, knowing that the remark was uncalled for. "And you're still the king of emo, so don't even start that with me." 

 

// You started it. // Sam shot back as they came into view of the pickup truck that was a rendered into an unrecognizable ball of metal. // At least it wasn't the Impala. // 

 

"Dude, if my baby had been mangled beyond recognition, all the powers you got wouldn't have stopped me from kicking your ass." Even as he said it, Dean felt a small smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. "So, Einstein, how we gettin' back to town then? If I remember right, hitchhiking didn't do a thing for you accept get you into demon trouble last time." 

 

// I didn't *mean* to crush the truck. // Sam groused and then a more serious expression crossed his face. // Just like I didn't mean to kill anyone. // 

 

Dean's hand slid up to touch the back of Sam's neck, fingers raking through the longer strands of Sammy's hair. "War has casualties, Sam. A lot more people would have died if you'd gone dark side on me." 

 

// One death is too many. // Sam said mentally and Dean heard the audible sigh. This guilt Sam felt was a clue that no matter how darkness tempted him, Sam was still human. Sam seemed to pick up on this and smiled. // I know you want to make a crack about me using the Force, you idiot. I can't believe... after all this... you can make me feel this way. // 

 

"That's what big brothers are for, Sammy-boy. Look, what happened... happened. It's done and over with. We gotta keep movin' past it. We'll deal with whatever we've got to. That mother fuckin’ demon is gone and it's never gonna hurt another person again. I think in the grand scheme of things that's gonna weigh in your favour." Dean nudged Sam's shoulder with his own. "And again I ask, how are we getting back into town? I want a shower to the get the smell of sulfur off of me." Dean leaned over and sniffed at Sam. "And you could use one too." 

 

// We passed a place on the way here that should have a car or something we can hot wire. // Sam said. What he didn't say was that it would belong to someone he was responsible for killing. Bodies fallen in the house and the most regrettable... a small one by the swing set out back. Dean didn't need to see that. And they didn’t have time to bury the dead. // You can stay here... I'll bring us back something. // 

 

"Uh uh. No way are you going all by yourself so you can feel guiltier with every step you take. I know you." Dean stood a little straighter, trying to hide the pain his ribs were giving him. "How far's the house from here?" 

 

// Up the road. // Sam answered and Dean nodded. He gritted his teeth and this time accepted Sam's help as they started walking away from the devastation. He had no idea how the Feds would explain away this one, he just knew he wanted them as far away as possible when they found out. He made a mental note that they would have to destroy whatever vehicle they found and driving it into Clinton Lake was at the top of his list. 

 

********* 

 

The door swung open to the new Roadhouse for the first time that morning. Ellen's hand automatically reached for the shotgun hidden under the bar and she didn't take her hand away when she saw it was the Winchester boys. "Well look what the cat dragged in." 

 

It wasn't until the sunlight was shut out that she could get a better look at their faces. The sound of the door slamming behind them didn't make her jump, it was the state of Dean's face that had her running out from behind the counter. "What the hell happened?" 

 

Dean took a step back and lowered his head, turning his face away. He didn't want her sympathy. "It's over." 

 

Ellen stopped dead in her tracks. "You talking about what I think your'e talking about? How?" Ellen turned to look at Sammy, who had stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with Dean. "Someone had better start doing some explaining... after you both sit down." She nodded her head towards the nearest table. 

 

Sam bumped shoulders with Dean, nodding with his head for Dean to sit down. "Yeah, yeah... I'm doing fine. See?" When Ellen gave him a strange look, he sighed. "He's didn't want me to drive with a head injury. I'm fine." He sat down and waited for Sam to sit down "See? Fine." There was a moment of silence and Sam raised his eyebrow. "Fine means fine." 

 

Ellen's face was screwed up in a look of abject confusion. She sat down across from them. She tried to keep her motherly instincts at bay. Both boys had healing cuts and were obviously still sore. Dean's face, she shivered as she really looked this time, had a deep gash that ran from his temple curving down through his eyebrow and farther down to cut through his upper and bottom lip. It was when she turned her attention to Sam that her breath froze in her throat. His eyes... God his eyes were strewn through with a golden yellow color. 

 

"What did you do?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and she took a step back. "What did you boys do?" 

 

Sam exchanged a looked with Dean and smiled. When Dean didn't say anything, Sam nudged him in the shoulder and Dean sighed. "We did what we had to do." 

 

Ellen shook her head. "Not getting off the hook that easy. I want details here, from both of you.” It wasn't until Dean shifted a bit in his chair that Ellen caught sight of a black mark on the base of his throat from where the tee-shirt bunched and shifted. She leaned across the table in a flash, pulling the material away. Sam's hand grabbed hers, halting her effectively and causing her to gasp at the strength behind it. It didn't matter. She'd seen enough of that swirl of symbol to know what it meant. 

 

"He doesn't want you to touch me," Dean told her in a tense tone. "Let her go, Sammy." 

 

Sam's eyes flicker for a moment as he stares back at Ellen, threatening her with just a look. When she was released, Ellen's hand was immediately cold and she reached for her pocket. It was only a few seconds and not enough time for them to really know what's going on. She got the cap off the bottle and holy water arched through the air towards Sam, catching him full in the face. 

 

The holy water didn't sizzle when it hit Sam's skin, nor did he flinch away in pain. That being said, he didn't look to happy either. Sam used his sleeve to wipe away the water and glared at Ellen. Dean reached out and put a restraining hand on Sam's chest, even as the ashtray on the table started to rattle, scattering cigarette butts. "Ellen... it's a really smart idea not to piss him off." 

 

"You realize your father would tan both of your hides right now if he knew what kind of magick you used? I dont' need to see the entire symbol on your chest right now to know what you've been delving in, Dean." She lets her gaze stay resting on Sam, fear and something close to nausea are heavy in her stomach. It took a few moments for her to clear her head. Yellow flecks dancing in Sam's eyes keep catching her attention, making her thoughts waver around like dandelion fluff in a gale wind. "Your powers shouldn't have ever been this strong." 

 

"I won't tell her that," Dean hissed under his breath, even as Sam got a determined look on his face. This time Dean shook his head silently and glared back at Sam. Ellen knew there was something strange because the power she felt stronger. Not evil, just stronger and willful. Finally Dean winced and his shoulders slumped. He rested his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "This was our destiny. He was the key to the Gates of Hell.” Sam scowled and Dean winced again. "And he wants me to tell you that if either you or Jo cross the line with me... he... won't be happy." 

 

Ellen's face felt frozen in a wide 'O' as she stared at them both. "Gates of Hell!? Did the two of you forget *everything* your father ever told you about anything at all!?" She stood up and went over to the phone, punching out the numbers harder than she really need to. She saw the boys exchange curious glances. "Stop doing that." 

 

"Stop doing what?" Dean asked with a huff. 

 

Ellen rolled her eyes at them and turned away, trying to keep her conversation private. "Yeah, Bobby, it's Ellen. I know you just left here but… I'm gonna need you up here at the Roadhouse. No, everything's more or less okay. Won't be for long though once we get some details out of the Winchester boys. Yeah, they're here right now and looking worse for wear. They have Andrachi sigils drawn all over them." There was a loud rumble from Bobby over the phone line that even had Sam and Dean look up and over at Ellen. "I know. That's why I want you here now. Thanks." She turned to look back at the boys and found them both avoiding her stare. "I'm sure you can guess who that was?" 

 

"A raging lunatic from South Dakota?" Dean offered with his usual smart assed tone. 

 

"One you know all too well. You boys have a lot of explaining to do to us. Andrachi magick is not something that's taken lightly at all. And from what I can tell you're both carrying the penalty of using it." 

 

"We were willing to make the necessary sacrifice," Dean told her in a much more serious tone. People brave or stupid enough to use Andrachi magick had to know its power would require a heavy price. The spell casters would have something they treasured from them. For every gift given, it took one. For Dean, he knew his own price had been a strike to his vanity with the ugly scar marring his face. Sammy's love of language had been targeted with the loss of his voice. The only conciliation was his brother's powers meant they could communicate, in much more intimate way than words. 

 

"Really? So did you both get rip-roaring drunk for the sex ritual part of it? It's suppose to be a *pure* act to balance things out. What you two did was far from pure. I'm surprised you even survived it at all. Going in with no back up, not even a call to any of us to let us know you'd tracked the demon down." Ellen went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack, unscrewing the top and taking a long swig. She knew it was a bad idea, Jack didn't like her at all, made her usual cool crumble with ease. 

 

// No one would have survived if they came with us. // Sam admitted to Dean. // I would have killed them as deep as I was. // 

 

Those words where translated automatically by Dean for Ellen. “It wasn’t safe. We’re the only ones who could take it on and live.” 

 

Ellen laughed angrily, slamming the bottle down on the counter. "The two of you are so much like your father it isn't funny, headstrong and stubborn down to the core. He's probably turning somersaults right now, knowing what you two did...and I'm not just talking about going into Hell either." 

 

// I really want yell at her right now. // Sam grumbled. // Yell at her for me! Tell her to… // 

 

// I’m not some ventriloquist dummy, you dummy. // Dean snapped mentally. He wanted some of that Jack she was drinking desperately. “Don’t judge us, Ellen.” 

 

Ellen started to open her mouth but stopped when she felt something wet hit the back of her hand. She turned to watch as the bottle lifted carefully off the bar and started its way across the room to end up sitting between Sam and Dean. Knowing about the visions was one thing, seeing Sam's powers in actions was totally different. "You could have asked and I would have brought over to you." 

 

Sam didn't have to speak. The look he gave her said everything. Dean had wanted it so Sam had gotten it for him. Dean grabbed the bottle of Jack gratefully and took a long swig. 

 

“He spoils me, huh?” Dean snorted and took another drink. “He’s powerful. Get over it, Ellen. I think it’s hot.” 

 

Ellen's mouth dropped open and she had to look away. All those little moments at the Roadhouse, all the squabbling between them...why hadn't she noticed it before? Her mind raced with the idea of it all, terrifying her. John had to have seen it. He had been so close to his boys until Sam had left for college. He'd kept them isolated and trained them both... 

 

"Oh my god." She closed her eyes. John had to have known, knowing him he probably even made sure to find subtle ways to encourage it. Why else would he have left them so easily in the end?


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was laughing and it was the first noise he had made since coming in the Roadhouse. The laugh was rough and sounds hoarse. 

 

"Dude!" Dean sputtered and spit out some of the Jack Daniel's he had been drinking. "I'm not telling her that!" 

 

"Samuel Winchester, you had damn well better keep your perverted mind to yourself for a little while longer." Bobby's voice seemed to bounce around the inside of the room as he walked in from behind the bar. He looked worse for wear, eyes red and face pale. "Do you have any idea how far I've driven across this god damn country trying to hunt down your asses? I knew something big was going on. Figures the two of you would figure out how to best cover your tails from me when all this shit went down. 

 

“I don’t now what you’re talking about,” Dean grumbled. 

 

“I’m talking about the mental bitchfest you and Sammy have going on in your heads,” Bobby snapped at them. He walked over and folded his arms over his chest. “Prove me different and say something Samuel Winchester. Anything.” 

 

Sammy looked down at the table, averting his eyes. 

 

// We're really gonna hear it now, aren't we? // Dean asked. 

 

// Certainly seems that way. // 

 

"Nothing?" Bobby prompted. "I didn't think so. Don't think that just because I can't hear you talking to each other that I don't what's going on. You can't hide from me boys, not even in your heads." 

 

Dean sat up a little straighter, pointing a finger in Bobby's direction. "Yeah well, you always were the bright one in the box of crayons," Dean said. His face twisted up and he jerked. "Damn it, Sammy! Don't fucking kick me!" He turned to glare at Sam. 

 

"Boys, that's enough," Bobby snapped. He knew them well enough that Dean had kicked Sam back by the way Sam was glaring at this brother. "What we need to know is the extent of the damage." 

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders a bit and leaned back, taking a pull from the bottle of whiskey before handing it over to Sam. "Well, the warehouse that we were in before opening the Gates to Hell is completely gone. The graveyard is dust. I mean, completely... as in a big gaping crater kind of way. The damn thing must be the size of..." 

 

"That's not what I'm talking about," Bobby interrupted him. He knew exactly what they were talking about. The news was saying it was some sort of natural disaster. They were calling it the Disaster of the Century. He turned to look at Sam, noticing the gold flecks in his eyes. After a lifetime of hunting, he could sense power and it was all but oozing out of the boy who like a son to him. "Sam, is it only Dean you can mind jabber with, or have you even tried to do that shit with anyone else?" 

 

Sam shook his head in negative, his bangs falling into his eyes. With one hand, he gestured between him and Dean then made a cutting motion when he turned to point back at Bobby and Ellen. 

 

Dean grinned. "That would mean no, doesn't work for anyone but us." Dean pause slightly and Sam hit him. "Ow! I was just clarifyin'!" 

 

“He could learn sign language,” Ellen suggested. 

 

“That means we’d have to learn it to,” Bobby snorted. “And he does have his own personal parrot…” 

 

"Hey!" Dean shouted. "What is this, beat up on Dean day or something? Look, we haven't really checked out all his freaky powers since this happened, okay? Superman here was a bit banged up and so was I. We high tailed it out of there and got ourselves checked out before checking out completely to get here. That's all SOP and you know it. So, why not back off just a little bit? It's been a hell of a few days. Literally." 

 

Bobby picked a chair and turned it around, sitting down with his arms resting on the back. "Oh... I don't know, Dean. Let's go over the facts. You managed to kill a demon that's supposed to be impossible to kill. You turned yourselves into weapons using dark magick. Locked the Gates of Hell, and your baby brother here is setting off ever supernatural alarm I've got. That about cover it, Ellen?" 

 

"Covers a good portion of it, I think. What I'm about to bring up though is something I know I'm going to regret." Ellen throws a wary look at Dean before moving to sit down at the table as well. 

"The bonding spell. You know exactly which one I'm talking about so don't try to deny it. How in the hell could you do that to Sam, Dean? There had to have been another way to go around that." 

 

Dean took a long sip from the whiskey and looked down at the table. "It's our business. I don't want to talk about it and he can't." 

 

Sighing, Ellen ran a hand over her face and plucked the bottle from Dean's fingers. "Yeah, well sorry to tell you this, kid but you're gonna have to talk about it. Did your lady priestess tell you all the fine print about that kind of bonding spell? I mean you obviously know that it takes away some of your... pride. But did she tell you the rest? Or were you both in such a big damn rush to fuck each other senseless and rush into the gates of hell that you didn't stop to listen?" 

 

Sam put a restraining hand on Dean’s shoulder. // She doesn’t understand. // 

 

Dean’s hand tightened on the edge of the table. // She’s got no right. The only thing I was afraid of losing was you… everything else doesn’t matter. // 

 

“Stop doing that!” Ellen snapped. She could tell they were communicating mentally and it was starting to freak her out. “Dean, your father trusted you to take care of you brother and you do this to him?” 

 

He couldn't help the low rumbled growl that worked its way out of his throat. "Who said I was the one that *did* anything? And as far as our father is concerned... killing that fucking demon was top priority so don't go throwing him into the mix of this." 

 

Ellen hadn’t know the boys for as long as he had and Bobby knew that outside of the hunt, for all of his posturing, Dean always let Sammy have his way. He had always catered to his brother, counteracting John’s gruffness and emotional distance. Things started to click into to place instantly. Bobby took off his hat and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Oh, Dean… how long?” 

 

"Well, it only took about fifteen minutes if you really wanna know. We were kind of pressed for time..." 

 

"Dean! How long has this..." Bobby waved his hand gesturing to the brothers. "...thing been going on." 

 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and sat silently, just staring. His jaw twitched in an attempt to not outright yell. Bobby knew the posturing, knew damn well that it was something Dean had picked up from John. Several long minutes passed with no one saying a thing and then there was a wrap of knuckles on the table. Bobby turned to look at Sammy, who pointed at himself and held up a one finger then six before pointing to himself. Dean tried to reach over and grab Sam's hands but he wasn't fast enough. They traded glares and obvious insults through the telepathic bond for several more minutes. Then Dean was shoving his chair back and stalking away. 

 

"Oh, god," Bobby groaned, taking the fact that Sammy had been sixteen. "Dean, you get your ass back here! There's no walking away from this now." 

 

"Ain't walking. I'm going for a drive." Came the curt reply back to them. The door to the Roadhouse blew closed with a severe finality, but Dean never made it out. The sound of the bolt lock sliding into place was loud in the room. Dean's fists clenched at his sides before he placed them on the door, letting his head rest against the wood. "Damn it, Sammy," Dean whispered just loud enough for them to hear him. 

 

"His temper tantrums always were the worst," Bobby laughed. He had no pretenses that Dean had taken advantage of Sam, despite the age. Sam had always been a force to be reckoned with and got his stubbornness from his father. He didn't doubt that Sam had wanted Dean with a tenaciousness that John had wanted to kill the yellow-eyed demon. 

 

"Unfortunately, you don't know the half of it," came Dean's reply from over by the door. Bobby turned to look back over his shoulder at the eldest and found him sitting on the floor, back pressed against it. "So, you said something before about pure intent, Ellen? That's where the pure came in, one part pure sin, one part pure virtue. Wrap your head around that one." 

 

"Sounds like a Winchester man, if ya ask me," Ellen shot back. She took a long swig from the whiskey bottle and wished there was something stronger on God's green earth. The bottle was set down with a thud on the table. "In fact, I think you couldn't get a better description of the breed if you tried. Unless you added crazy a mother fucking loon." 

 

Dean's laugh was harsh. "Takes one to know one, doesn't it, Ellen?" 

 

"Now that I'll drink to!" Ellen called back and raised the bottle still in her grasp in a toast to Dean. She took another drink and set the bottle back down. "Incest and dark magick aside, guess we owe you boys a thank you." 

 

Bobby reached his hand out and pried the bottle from Ellen's grasp. "That we do." He watched the fire in her eyes as he sat the bottle down out of reach. "But it still doesn't excuse the lame ass way you went about it on your own, either. I've got a right mind to take the two of you over my knee to remind you of all that training your father put you through." He turned his gaze to Sam, watching the boy look up at him through overgrown bangs with a small look of shame. "I'd expect this from your brother, Sammy, but not from you. Dean's impulsive and goes by his gut. Saves his ass about ninety percent of the time. But you, you know that strategy and planning is just as important as gut feeling." 

 

// Tell him the truth, Dean. // Sam prodded gently. 

 

Dean stood up and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket before he started to pace in agitation near the locked door. “You couldn’t have come, Bobby. No one could have. You’d all be dead.” 

 

Bobby took a deep breath and nodded his head. "Alright, explain it to me then. The two of you ain't makin' a whole lotta sense right now and that's what seems to be causing all the confusion around here. Why just the two of you?" 

 

Sam's head dropped and Dean knew without seeing his face that Sam was wallowing in guilt. Dean walked up behind him and put his hands on Sam's shoulders. "The only reason I'm alive is 'cause Sammy did some major mojo. Everything... every one else within a few miles of the Gates... didn't survive." 

 

“Holy Mary Mother of God,” Ellen whispered to herself, leaning forward and resting her face in her hands. “Please tell me you covered your tracks well enough that no one’s gonna know you were there? The Feds are still out looking for you.” She looked up and saw the pain in Sam’s face and reached out to lay her hand over top of Sammy’s. “I don’t mean to sound so harsh by asking that, but you two boys are obviously gonna need a bit of time to come down after something like this. There’s a lot you’re both gonna have to work through with what happened.” 

 

Dean kept massaging Sam's shoulder, feeling the tension. "I don't think they’ll be able to track us, but we'll need to lay low. Go off the grid." 

 

Ellen nodded her head. "I've offered you both a room in the past here and you turned it down. Not exactly quiet here some nights either. I got a cabin not far from here that I keep mainly for some of the older hunters who don't wanna mix it up with the younger generations. I think it would do you both good to stay there. It's about two miles north of here. Plenty of peace and quiet but still close enough that you could pop in here to pick up food to take out there when you get hungry. If you want to make use of it, it's all yours for the time being." 

 

// I know you don’t want to take anyone’s help, Dean, but we don’t have any other choice. I don’t think I could take it if we were on the run. // 

 

The damn world had just about ended and there was no way to fix Sam, but at least he wasn’t broken. Dean’s hand moved up to the back of Sam’s neck and massaged. There was no place to run and Sam needed time to recover. // If it means I don’t have to cook, then I’m in. // 

 

Bobby leaned over and stage whispered into Ellen’s ear. “Dean’s not complaining out loud and it’s taking them an awful long time to say anything. That means stock up your pantry cuz they’re staying.” 

 

“Bobby..." Dean complained. "Stop doing that." 

 

Bobby raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. "Doing what?" 

 

Dean waved his hand in the air. "Reading my mind. That's Sammy's job." Then he turned to Ellen. "You do have food, right?" 

 

Ellen laughed and shook her head. "Why do I have a feeling like I'm gonna regret my kind generosity here?" She sat back and propped her feet up on the table. "Yes, Dean Winchester, I have food. But if you're gonna be staying around I got a few things I'm gonna want you to do around the cabin for me as partial payment. I don't do freebies and I don't do charity, makes a body lack in building character. You got a problem with that better speak now." 

 

Sam looked up at Dean for effect and made the motion of zipping his lips shut. 

 

"Funny, Sammy. Real funny." 

 

********** 

 

Sam had stitched up Dean's face as best as he could after the battle, but Ellen had always been one of the unofficial medics of the hunter world. The entire time Ellen was looking over Dean, Sam was pacing nervously behind them. It was completely irrational, but he didn't want her touching Dean. He knew Bobby was watching him. 

 

It was the soft touch on his shoulder that threw Sam off. For just a fleeting moment, if Sam would have turned quick enough, he was certain it would have been his father's hand. It had that same warmth and presence that John always radiated in times like these. The offering of reassurance that things would be alright, everything was fine. It had always been the one thing his father had easily given him, knowing how much Sam worried over his brother's injuries from past hunts. But Sam knew it was only Bobby, doing what he could to keep him from trying to fly out of his own skin. The memory was hard to bear, knowing that even after this was all said and done, the battle over... John wasn't there to help his sons through the final stages. John had paid his own high price for pride. 

 

"He's gonna be alright, ya know," Bobby told Sam. Bobby considered the young man in front of him. It was strange not to have him speaking. He never thought the clumsy, chubby boy he remembered would grow into this supernatural weapon standing before him. For only a fleeting moment, he was glad John had passed before he saw Sammy become this. Because a part of him knew that John wouldn't have let Sammy live if there was any doubt the boy couldn't be saved. Another part of him wondered if Sam Winchester was around because the fight wasn’t over. 

 

Sam nodded his head, turning his head to offer Bobby a small smile. He turned back to watch as Ellen finished up going over the cuts and scratches with antiseptics. 

 

“Well, you did a pretty good job, Sam. Nothing looks infected and the stitches are holding just fine. I don’t think I could’ve done a better job myself.” She pulled off the latex gloves she had on and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. “I need to check you over now, okay?” Her gaze was a bit unsure as she looked at Sam. “I know you probably don’t want anyone touching either of you, but it’s got to be done. Dean can sit right here next to you while I do it.” 

 

"He wants me to tell you that you don't have to worry about his head spinning around or anything," Dean told Ellen. He got up from the chair and exchanged glances with Ellen. They had been to the cabin Ellen offered them for a few hours already, in desperate need of some privacy and sleep, but when they woke up, Sam had been staring at his wound. He had insisted they go have Ellen look at it, event though he didn't seem very thrilled with the idea. 

 

She gave Sam a soft smile. “C’mon, Sam. Let’s take a look at you.” She watched as Sam pulled of his hoodie and then his tee-shirt. He was a mass of bruises and smaller cuts, nothing as extreme as the one on Dean’s face. Permanent tattooed sigils were everywhere, matching the ones that were on Dean’s skin. She motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed and she started prodding. Sam barely moved except for the one spot that was on his left side. It was a dark black blue mass. She bit her tongue, wanting to know what had happened but refrained from asking. Both boys had spilled enough of the story for her to realize that there were many things she didn’t want to have the answers to. Her main concern was the carved symbol on their backs. 

 

Her fingers traced the scab that had formed over the wound. She knew a knife had been used to cut into the skin and then henna rubbed into it. It was an ancient and painful technique for tattooing. Even touching the symbol made her skin crawl from the power radiating off Sam. "Oh, boys..." 

 

Dean hissed from his spot in the chair across the room, his eyes squeezing closed. “Ellen, don’t!” 

 

Ellen snatched her hand back and started to stand up. “Dean, what’s wrong?” 

 

But Dean's warning was too late and Sam's posture went from nervous to tense in one moment. Dean was up and out of his own chair in a moment, knocking Ellen away and wrapping Sam in a restraining hold. Sam's eyes flash pure gold yellow, chasing any normal color away as he screamed silently. 

 

It only lasted for a few seconds, but long enough to remind everyone exactly what kind of powers Sam had been given. The whole room seemed to shake, things sliding around or falling over, a window even started cracking before blowing out. As quickly as it came on, it stopped leaving behind only the sound of heavy breathing and the wind that made its way into the room. 

 

// Don’t let her touch it. She can’t touch it. // Sam’s voice was a pleading almost-whisper in Dean’s head. // I don’t know why it didn’t hurt you when she touched yours but it was like being branded with a hot iron when she touched mine. // 

 

Dean turned Sam in his arms, no long restraining, but comforting him. Sam slumped against him, his face hidden against Dean's neck as Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. // I won't let anyone touch it but me. // Dean promised. // You're the one with the power, Sammy. Not me. Probably has something to do with that. You still hurting? // 

 

// Not like before, no. It just… kinda aches. // Sam shivered a bit. // I don’t want them here right now. Tell them I want to lie down for a bit, tell them anything. Just get them out for awhile. I can’t stand them seeing me like this.// 

 

Dean held Sam tight and turned so that he was facing away from Bobby and Ellen. "You two have to leave now," he warned them. His own face was turned and buried into Sam's hair as he started to make soothing noises. 

 

Ellen started forward, to apologize or tell them no they’d never find out. Bobby’s hand grabbed at her wrist, halting her mid-motion. “You need anything we’ll be up at the Roadhouse.” With that he was tugging Ellen bodily out of the cabin. 

 

The door slammed behind them without being touch by human hands. “What the hell, Bobby!?” 

 

Bobby whirled on her, his face a mask of stone. “I know your motherly instincts are kickin’ in, Ellen, but those boys don’t need us right now. You remember how John was when he was hurting? Those boys are practically exact copies. Leave them be, when they’re ready for a nursemaid they’ll ask for it. Right now the best thing we can do is get back to the Roadhouse and see what’s the official story about Lawrence. That way we know some of the aspects of the fallout that we’re gonna have to deal with.” He didn’t wait for her reply, just climbed into the passenger seat of her car and waited. 

 

Ellen gapped for a moment, but then stormed around to the drivers side of the car, climbed in and slammed the door. "Bobby, did you see what happened there... back at the bar? I don't think anyone has ever dealt with something... someone like Sam before!" 

 

Bobby slid down in his seat a bit before turning his head to look at Ellen. “Dean’s been dealing with him for years. If anyone can reign the boy in it’s him. You realize we all could be dead right now? If Sam had gone over, this whole world as we know it would have been gone. Not the pretty big bang or sudden death plague everyone thought it would have been. Hell, no. You think demons and hellspawn would do it quickly and take over? They like to drag it out, make it hurt, make you want to die.” Bobby turned to look out the window for a minute, staring back at the cabin. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “We all had our say with John about how he treated those boys, how he raised them. That’s part of the reason he never brought them to the Roadhouse, never told them about the other hunters. He made them learn to rely on each other and on him, no one else. Turns out it was the right thing to do. So, for right now, I suggest you focus on something else, Ellen Harvelle. Whatever’s gonna happen will happen. Ain’t a damn thing we can do to change it or stop it. Now, I want a damn beer. And that girl of yours is gonna have a lot questions as to what’s going on.” 

 

Ellen fished the keys out of her pocket and started the car. "I know John did what he had to and I know those boys did the same, but... we gotta watch them. Not just anyone struts into hell and takes out one of the devil's own without repercussions. You asked me if I knew John... well I did in ways you never could as a man. Don't tell me that he didn't ask Dean to take care of Sammy... to do what he had to do in every way, Bobby." 

 

Bobby laughed, the sound almost hollow. “I aint’ confimin’ nor denyin’ what John asked of Dean. Why? ‘Cause I honestly don’t know. If John was ever tight lipped about anything it was those boys of his. We all knew John in way or another, some of us more than others. All that matters is his boys are safe and alive for the time being. We’ll deal with the aftermath of their little journey in its own time.” 

 

Ellen wasn't stupid and picked up on what Bobby was implying. A hunter's life was grim and filled with pain. Their breed never played well with others. Sam and Dean being the exception. John and Bobby had a history of nasty tear ups, but they always seemed to make up eventually. What she once thought of friendship and loyalty was starting to shift into another thought. 

 

"We've got no choice but to deal with it." She gunned the engine and dust went flying in a cloud around the car. "Last I had heard, you chased John Winchester off with shotgun..." 

 

“Son of a bitch ripped my favorite jean jacket,” was the only reply Ellen got, but the look on Bobby’s face seemed to speak volumes more out loud than she’d probably ever want to know. 

 

*********** 

Sam walked up behind Dean and put his arms around his older brother's waist. He stared at their reflections in the mirror. 

 

"They know now..." Dean sighed. "They know what you are... what we share. I see the look of fear I their eyes..." 

 

// Doesn't matter. None of that matters. Let them think what they want about it. You never cared before hand about what people thought about our family. Don't start now. // 

 

// I don't care... // Dean sighed and looked at the gray hair starting at his temples where the scar met his hairline. The wound was sore, already starting to scab, but he knew it had healed unnaturally fast. // But I don't like any looking at you like that. // 

 

Soft laughter resonated through Dean's head. // I wasn't paying any attention to notice any looks from them. Was too busy watching you get all huffy about it. Still trying to protect me after everything that’s happened.// Sam's fingers swept up to Dean’s cheek again. // This looks good on you.// 

 

// Some of them of the other hunters, fear you... event Bobby and Ellen, but others... want you. I can tell. Maybe my scar will scare them away from you? // 

 

// Most of them are already a bit wary of you anyway. I don't think we have to worry so much about them anymore. Most won’t say anything, if they do it'll be behind closed doors away from us. Ellen may not like us being open about it but she'll knock down the first person who says a word against us. She's loyal. Bobby's the same way. // 

 

/ /They're cool... but they're not, Dad. I miss him... // 

 

//Well, at least we know he got out of hell. That should help a little bit, doesn't it? Knowing that he's with mom.// 

 

// I just... // Dean had to stop. This was something he had to say out loud. “Even after everything... I feel like I let him down... He wouldn't want this for you." 

 

// Oh, Dean. He wouldn't want anything like this to have happened to either of us. But this is what happened. And we got through it. You and me, that's all that matters .// 

 

// Question is... what do we do now? // 

 

//Well, we could try to take over the world, if you feel up to it?// came Sammy's teasing tone in his head. //Should I start calling you Pinky now?// 

 

“Bitch,” Dean said out loud and smacked Sam on the back of the head. 

 

// Jerk. // 

 

“We can’t take over the world. We just saved it.” 

 

// Okay, I’ll settle for a sleep and a beer. For now… // 

 

The lights in the cabin switched off simply because Sam willed it to happen. He felt things beckoning to him in the distance and darkness even now, but ignored them. Right now the important thing was Dean alive in his arms.


End file.
